The Best of a Bad Day
by ReadingGirl24
Summary: The team continues to hunt for Bodnar; when they finally find him, Ziva isn't the only one looking for revenge. Fiona Mitchell, her old friend and an Intelligence Analyst on the team, goes with her to help. What happens when Gibbs finds out? Will he and Fiona ever figure out their feelings for each other, or will he screw things up? Gibbs/OC; T because I'm paranoid. Disclaimer.


**Author's Note: This story includes another character that has been on the team in the capacity of intelligence analyst since before Somalia. She is an old friend of Ziva's and was in Somalia and was taken captive by Saleem along with Ziva. This just helps get an idea of who this character is and her place in the team dynamic. All the usual disclaimers stand-this is just for my amusement and, hopefully, yours.**

Fiona Mitchell was having a really, really bad day. She had gotten up on the wrong side of the bed after a miserable night's sleep; everyone else in the office had barely slept, being focused only on catching Bodnar. When the intel came in pinpointing him at a freighter in Baltimore Harbor, Ziva pulled out her car keys, picked up her weapon, and quietly left the building even before the rest of the team had come down from the Director's office. Fiona had been sitting on the floor behind her desk doing some filing, out of view of the rest of the bullpen. No one took much notice of her anyway—she was just an intelligence analyst, not a field agent, so she always felt a little bit like the red-headed step-child of the team. She knew that she shouldn't let Ziva go alone to Baltimore—no more than she could have let her go it alone in Somalia. Besides, Eli had been like a father to her, as well, for a number of years, and Ziva was like a sister—there was no way she was letting her leave on her own. She glanced briefly up at the Director's office and quickly calculated whether the ass-chewing she was going to get from Gibbs was prohibitive—and decided that it wasn't. You always have your partner's back, even if she and Ziva weren't exactly partners. She grabbed her keys and ran to the elevator.

The rest of the night's activities had been agonizing and frightening, and she saw them all later in a blur (probably due to the very excellent pain medication that Ducky had given her). The drive to Baltimore had felt endless, and when Fiona finally arrived, she had a momentary panic: what the hell was she doing? She wasn't trained for this! Even so, there wasn't anyone else around to help, so she had to. She had learned a few things from Ziva, so she wasn't completely unprepared, and in the end, it was over fairly quickly. Suddenly, after so many months and so much pain, Bodnar was dead, and Fiona and Ziva both had only sustained minor injuries. She was picking herself up off the floor of the ship when the rest of the team arrived—Gibbs looking like a very dangerous stormcloud, Tony looking angry and worried, and McGee following both. Ziva helped her up off the floor and, in an uncharacteristic gesture, hugged her briefly. They didn't get the chance to do much more than that before the cabin was filled with people and everything was all business. Tony took Ziva outside to make sure she was really okay, McGee started taking pictures of the crime scene, and Fiona just wanted to get out of the way. She knew that Gibbs would be furious with her, and she wanted to stave off that confrontation as long as she could. Her ribs were starting to ache, and she slowly became aware of cuts on her face that were bleeding. She suspected that she would continue to feel her injuries as the adrenaline wore off; her whole body was starting to ache and she was getting cold and beginning to shiver.

She was standing on the pier, shivering and miserable, when McGee came over with a blanket that he had gotten out of the van.

"Thanks, McGee—you're the best."

"No problem. You doing okay?"

"I'm not sure. I'm really cold, and I think my ribs may be broken…."

She was having trouble breathing and started to panic. Tim put his arm around her shoulder, and just the solid warmth of him was comforting; she leaned into him and relaxed for a minute just as Gibbs came down the gangplank.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he bellowed at her. She expected that to be the end of it, but he went on. "Do you have any idea how stupid this was? Do you know that you could have been killed? Let me remind you of something that you seem to have forgotten: you are NOT a field agent! You are just an analyst! I should suspend you for this, or should I just remind you what happened the last time you tried to help. Somalia wasn't all that much fun, was it?"

At this point in the tirade, McGee interrupted. "Boss!"….

Gibbs just looked at him for a second, and Fiona thought that he might transfer his wrath to Tim, but he stopped, looked at both of them, then turned abruptly and left. Fiona saw him walk over to Tony and Ziva, and heard him ask Ziva in a gentle voice if she was okay. All of a sudden, she felt the overwhelming urge to sit down and cry. Reaction to the events of the evening was starting to set in, and she felt tired and sick. Tim felt her shivering, gave her shoulder an extra squeeze, and said, "Come on—I'll drive you back to the office so Ducky can take a look at you."

She thought idly what a great guy he was, and wished that she could fall in love with someone like him instead of…..

But she wouldn't let herself think of the "instead of" or she would definitely cry. Ziva wouldn't cry because she was a kick-ass ninja, and so Frances couldn't cry, either. The ride back to Headquarters was quiet—Fiona's ribs were throbbing in time with her head and all she wanted to do was forget…..

Tim dropped her off at Ducky's for a checkup; as usual, his calm, friendly demeanor lowered her defenses and she broke into overwrought tears. He let her cry it out for a few moments, then went back to his examination, pushing lightly on her ribs to make sure nothing was broken.

"My poor dear girl, what an evening you've had. You've been very brave."

Fiona sniffled. "That's not what Gibbs thinks."

"I'm sure he thinks exactly the same thing—he probably just….phrased it differently."

"He yelled at me. At the docks…afterwards. Said I'd been stupid and that he should suspend me. And then he reminded me about Somalia and how horrible it was….." Fiona dissolved into tears again; now that she had started crying, it was hard to stop. She hated being so weak.

"Oh, my dear…..I'm sure that it was…unpleasant, but you know how Jethro gets when one of his teammates puts themselves in harm's way. No doubt he'll be down here to apologize before we're through."

"Not likely. He never apologizes. There's a rule against it. Besides, I wouldn't listen to him anyway. He had no right to yell at me like that. I know I took a risk, but that's what we're supposed to do for our teammates, right? And he didn't yell at Ziva like he yelled at me, and she was the one that left here alone in the first place….Oww!" She flinched as Ducky put some astringent on one of the cuts on her face.

"Sorry…this might sting a little bit."

Fiona was silent as Ducky worked on her cuts; she was starting to regret her outbursts—she was pretty sure she sounded like a whiny teenager. She was trying to formulate some sort of apology when Ducky stepped away.

"There, my dear. Bruised ribs, some cuts and bruises on your face and arms, but otherwise, not too worse for the wear."

"Thanks, Ducky. I'm sorry I was such a mess."

"Not at all, Fiona. It was to be expected after all you've been through this evening, and I have no doubt that Jethro was his usual pleasant self, and that couldn't have helped. Even so, I'm sure all will be well again tomorrow."

Fiona doubted it, but she gave Ducky a half-hearted smile and gingerly got up from the table. "Thanks again, Duck. I'll see you in the morning."

At that point, all she wanted to do was get home, take a hot shower, and crawl into bed with some of the pain pills she had been given. She would have a nice long cry in the shower and then be done with it; she wouldn't ever cry in front of Gibbs—it would be too humiliating. He already treated her like a second class citizen because she wasn't a field agent, but to show him any kind of weakness would be devastating to her ego.

Little did she know that the object of her thoughts had been sitting at his desk in the dark of the bullpen for the last half hour mentally raking himself over the coals for treating her so badly. What the hell had he been thinking? He never lost his temper like that with one of his team—and she had done the right thing. Sure, it had been a risk, but Rule #1 is to always have your partner's back. Sure, they weren't technically partners, but they were practically family, and he loved seeing that kind of loyalty in his team. He had said some terrible things—bringing up Somalia again was unforgivable. Maybe it was true what people said about him, that the second "b" in Gibbs stood for bastard. He had certainly acted like one tonight. He needed to catch her before she left to talk to her, if she would even listen to him. He bolted out of his chair and ran for the elevator, just as Fiona was leaving Autopsy.

"All I have to do is get out of here without him seeing me," she thought. "Maybe I should take the stairs." Just then, the elevator doors slid open to reveal the man she'd been trying to avoid.

"Good, you're still here. Can we talk?" His voice was much softer than it had been earlier, but there was still an edge to it that made Fiona nervous. She wasn't sure how much she could take in one day, and she was still feeling far too tearful for her own comfort.

He was standing there waiting, and it was on the tip of her tongue to come up with an excuse, but before she knew it and for reasons she couldn't explain, she stepped inside the elevator as he held the doors for her. The metal box began to move slowly downwards, and then came to an abrupt halt as he hit the emergency stop button. She was stuck inside Gibbs' "office"—the one place that she hadn't wanted to end up this evening. She figured she'd throw out the first word.

"Look, I know you probably have a lot to say to me, and I'm sure you want to yell at me some more, but can it wait at least until tomorrow? I'm tired….and sore…and I've had a horrible day….and I just…."

"I'm sorry," Gibbs interrupted.

The words echoed inside the small metal cab for a few seconds before he went on. "I was way out of line tonight, and I'm sorry. I never should have yelled at you."

Fiona couldn't believe her ears. She had never heard him apologize to anyone—there was actually a rule against it (number 6?), and here he was, apologizing to her.

"Rule 6?" she queried.

"Doesn't apply here. Not weakness when you're wrong."

"Why did you lose your temper like that?"

He thought for a moment—he actually considered making something up, because the truth would take them in a direction he wasn't 100% comfortable with, but she would know that he was lying. She was good at that, especially with him. He decided to go with the truth.

"I got scared."

This response surprised her and made her heart beat just a little bit faster. He continued.

"When we got to the boat, I saw Ziva first, then Bodnar—or Bodnar's body, rather—but I didn't see you anywhere. I thought that you….I thought…..I'd lost you." He paused for a moment, ran his hand through his hair, and went on. "And then you were okay, but you were down on the pier and McGee had his arm around you…." He stopped, uncertain of where to go next. Surely she could see what he was trying to say?

Fiona was alternately hoping that she got his meaning and being convinced that she was misunderstanding him. Was he saying that he was jealous? That couldn't be it. Was he upset because he thought that she and McGee were breaking Rule 12? More likely.

"Gibbs, I know that you hate it when anyone on your team gets hurt, and I know it was stupid of me to run off like that—I never meant to scare you, honestly. And McGee and I aren't breaking Rule 12 or anything like that—I mean, he was just being a good friend. I guess I didn't think about how this must have reminded you of what happened with Kate. I'm so sorry about that, but I couldn't let Ziva go alone. Eli was more of a father to me than my own father, in spite of his shortcomings, and Ziva's like my sister…."

"I know." He paused and was suddenly aware that it was becoming increasingly warm inside the elevator—Fiona's forehead was glistening and her bangs were slightly wet. It was now or never—she was giving him the perfect opportunity to take the next step, if he was brave enough. He had always been bad with words—how could he make her understand everything he felt?

"You were right," he said," about Kate. I did think of her briefly. This was different, though. Kate and I were…close. I thought of her as a daughter…and it was devastating to lose her like that….." He stopped again and cleared his throat. Emotions were starting to choke him, and he didn't do emotions well. Fiona was getting ready to either cry or pass out—the elevator had gotten absurdly warm, she was already exhausted, and the emotional rollercoaster was getting to be too much for her. Of course he only saw her as a team-member—she would never be anything more than that to him. She had thought at one point that they were friends—good friends—but obviously, that had changed. All she wanted to do was get out of that box and go home to nurse her wounds. But then, Gibbs was talking again.

"This was different because…..you're my _best_ friend…." He took a step towards her and lifted his hand to touch her cheek; the uncharacteristic intimate gesture brought tears to her eyes immediately. "And," he continued, "because I'm in love with you."

The words reverberated around the inside of the box, and Fiona became aware of time passing, and that he was holding his breath, waiting for a response from her.

"You….you're in love with me?" She had to know if she had heard him correctly. Blood was rushing in her ears and she was again having trouble breathing—this time for different reasons.

"Yeah," was his only response.

"For how long?" she asked.

"Long time. Since Somalia."

"Somalia? That's been two years, Gibbs! Why didn't you say anything?"

"Come on, Fee—I'm years older than you, with four marriages and three divorces under my belt—I'm just some broken-down old Marine that never even went to college. The guys you go out with are successful, and young, and can afford to take you to all sorts of fancy places…."

"Do you seriously think that matters to me? Getting taken out to fancy places? I just went out with those guys to take my mind off you—I fell in love with you ages ago! Those guys couldn't hold a candle to you—you're the most decent, loyal, caring, honorable man I've ever known- I just gave up on anything ever happening because I didn't think you'd be interested in someone like me, and even if you were, you'd never say anything because of Rule 12."

"It's my rule….so I get to break it. There's no one I'd rather break it with than you…..if you're willing to give it a try….."

She couldn't think of anything else to say, so she threw her arms around him and they just held onto each other so tightly that he knew she must have been hurting. He was reluctant to let go of her—it felt so good to hold her like this, knowing that she was safe and that she was finally his after all this time.

"Before this goes any further…." His stomach flip-flopped. Was she already having doubts? Had this been a mistake? ….."I think we need to get out of this box before I pass out." God, of course….he was an idiot.

"Yeah—come on. We can continue this at my place. I'll drive."

They left the elevator with hands linked, and spent the car-ride back to his house in relative silence. Fiona was still having a hard time believing that everything had happened—that she had helped bring down an international terrorist, and mostly, that Gibbs loved her! She was conscious of her injuries only in the periphery—at the forefront of her mind, she was going through the scene in the elevator over and over again.

Next to her, the object of her affection was hoping that he had done the right thing in telling her how he felt. He wasn't an easy man to live with, but maybe she knew that already. After all, they had been friends—good friends—for years. He glanced over at her—she had her head back against the head rest and her eyes were closed; he felt a momentary stab at his heart. His poor girl—what she had been through tonight! All he wanted to do was make her feel better—to take away the pain and more than anything, take away the words he had used against her at the boat.

She must have read his mind, because she looked over at him and said, "I'm okay, you know. I'm made of stronger stuff than you think."

"Know that," he responded. "You're the strongest person I know. Just wish I hadn't been such a jackass to you earlier….the boat…..McGee…"

"So you _were_ jealous!"

"Yeah. Not proud of it. McGee is a good guy—better than me. Way less baggage….closer to your age…."

"Are you trying to convince me not to stay with you? 'Cause it's not gonna work. You're stuck with me. So what if you have baggage? So does everyone who's worth anything. That's what makes us who we are…that's what makes you great. You don't give yourself enough credit—your flaws make you the man I love….and I'm not going anywhere."

Gibbs was momentarily choked up. No one had ever talked about him that way before; he was moved by the fact that this woman, who had been at the receiving end of one of his tirades hours earlier, loved him enough to overlook his negative qualities—something that none of his ex-wives had ever been able to do.

They arrived at his house and he looked over at her again once he shut off the car. "You look exhausted. I'm going to run you a hot shower, and then you're going to take your pain meds and go to bed."

"Yes, sir," she managed. "As long as you promise to come to bed with me." She managed a wicked grin.

"Fee….you're in no condition…."

"I know….I didn't mean it like that, although it would be my preference—but you're right. I'm so sore…and tired….I just want to be with you, that's all."

Gibbs seconded the feeling. He didn't want her out of his arms let alone his sight for the rest of the night.

"Come on…let's get you settled." He helped her out of the car and led her into the house. "I'll get some clothes out for you to wear and you can get cleaned up. Hot shower'll make you feel better…then you can come down and take your meds."

Fiona stood in the middle of the living room as Gibbs rushed around getting clothes, turning on the water…she felt oddly disconnected from everything—the exhaustion, she supposed. There was one thing that was missing from their scene in the elevator—something she needed to confirm that the conversation had, in fact, happened.

Gibbs was in full-take-charge mode as he came down the stairs. "OK—there are clothes on the bed, a clean towel in the bathroom, and the water is nice and hot….." He stopped as she moved closer to him, putting one hand on his chest and one hand on his cheek. His blue eyes were murky, and she saw so many emotions inside them—love, desire, and just a little bit of fear. She was nervous, too—her hands were shaking, but she had never been more certain of her feelings for anyone.

"Gibbs?" He moved even closer to her, holding her waist and pulling her further into his embrace. "Jethro….." The first time their lips met, it was gentle, tentative…but became more demanding after only a few seconds. All the tension of the evening came out, along with years of pent up emotion until both of them were breathless and shaken.

"We need to do a lot more of that," said Fiona when she could finally speak.

Gibbs grinned. "Yeah…." And kissed her again, very gently. "But for right now, it's time for you to take your shower before I run out of hot water. You need your rest."

"You could always help me with my shower," purred Fiona suggestively.

"Dammit, Fee—are you trying to kill me? I'm only human, you know—and it's been two years. I doubt I'd be able to…."

"…..show the proper restraint?" she finished.

"I mean…..well, your ribs…..and I don't want to hurt you."

She kissed him again. "I know. You're right—I can barely breathe, nevermind anything else. Good thing I'm a quick healer."

And with that, she climbed the stairs to the master bath to get cleaned up. She hadn't really had the chance to look at herself since the injuries were sustained, and the sight of her banged-up face in the mirror gave her quite a shock. The bruises were starting to show on her skin around her ribs and on her face, and several of her cuts looked pretty nasty. She washed gingerly, enjoying the feeling of the hot water on her aching muscles, then dried off and slipped into the T-shirt and sweats that Gibbs had left her.

"Better?" he asked, as she came down the stairs.

"Hot water felt good, but I'm hideous. I look like I've been in a bar fight."

"Not hideous," kissing the top of her head. "Beautiful."

She nibbled on some crackers and took her pain meds, and suddenly discovered that she had nothing left. Gibbs sensed that she was all in, and gently led her up to the bedroom, tucked her in, and got in next to her.

"If you need anything, I'm right here…..I'll always be right here," he said as she nestled up against him.

"I know. I love you."

He loved hearing those words from her, knowing that they were just for him. There were worlds of complications to deal with over the next few weeks, but all that mattered was that she was safe and they were together.

"I love you, too."


End file.
